The Bride Read Free

realizing, Eleanor took one, then another step back. She would have taken a third but she bumped against someone.
    “Oh, excuse me.” She turned, flustered to stare at a crisp white shirtfront. Slowly she lifted her eyes knowing there was only one man of her acquaintance tall and broad shouldered enough to wear that shirt and evening jacket.
    “Miss Fiske, I assure you it was all my fault.”
    “But I stepped on you, Mr. Bonner.”
    “I didn’t feel a thing, Miss Fiske.” John smiled before continuing. “Actually I was seeking you out.”
    “Me?”
    Her eyes widened and John was struck again by their color... and how lovely they were. But he managed not to stammer as he assured her it was true. “I realize I’m remiss in not asking earlier, but I wonder if I might have this dance.”
    “You wish to dance with me?” It was not as if she lacked partners. Etiquette demanded that no one as wealthy and socially prominent as Eleanor sit out the endless round of dances. But John Bonner was the most handsome man she’d ever seen, with his dark brown eyes and hair and there was no reason that he should feel compelled to partner her. Still, he stood there staring down at her as if he wished to do just that.
    Eleanor took a deep breath, at least as deep as she could take with her waist cinched as it was. “Thank you, Mr. Bonner, I would be—”
    “Eleanor, come with me.”
    Her mother’s tone seemed to pierce her skin like a thousand hatpins. Eleanor stiffened even before her mother took her kid-gloved arm. “Mrs. Astor has just sent word that we are to join her. Do come on.”
    The look she threw him was apologetic but she walked away nonetheless. John watched the swish of her deep green skirts and told himself he was just as glad. He’d spent most of the afternoon trying to learn the intricate steps of the quadrille and wasn’t at all confident that he’d mastered it. Besides, he decided as he wound through the cream of Newport society, a waltz was better suited to his purpose.
    John found Franklin Fiske in the green marble billiard room. He knew several of the other men from dealings on Wall Street and spent a few minutes talking of the latest scare. Franklin didn’t join the conversation. He barely acknowledged John until the younger man approached him.
    “I would like you to return to the ballroom with me,” John said as he leaned against the huge hearth.
    “What for?”
    “I’ve a desire to dance with your daughter.”
    “You’ve been introduced.” Franklin took a quick sip of champagne.
    “True enough. And if it were up to her I wouldn’t need your help. But her mother doesn’t seem to like me much.”
    “I have no doubts Matilda finds you unacceptable.”
    “Then it is up to you to change her mind.”
    “We agreed upon an introduction and my blessings to the union, nothing more.”
    John’s eyes narrowed. “We also agreed the second payment would be made when the betrothal was announced.”
    For a moment Franklin did nothing. Then he drained his wine, carefully wiped at the fringe of his steel gray mustache, and placed the glass on the table to his right. Without another word he led the way toward the ballroom.
    When they entered Eleanor was being twirled about the floor by a man who stood nearly eye to eye with her. Of course the silly peacock feathers in her hair loomed over both of them.
    “That’s Sir Alfred Farnsworth,” Franklin informed John. “He is my wife’s choice as future son-in-law.”
    John’s brow arched. “I wasn’t aware I had any competition.” John had researched Eleanor Fiske and knew she’d come out into society four years ago. Plenty of time for her to snare a husband if she were going to. He’d thought her safely on the shelf. That and her father’s financial problems made the deal he struck with Franklin possible.
    “I didn’t say he was pursuing my daughter, just that Matilda wished it.” Franklin yanked at the expensively cut evening jacket.